


Give You What You Want

by pancake_surprise



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Ice Skating, M/M, Miya 4, Post-Time Skip, Shenanigans, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, antics, astumu is a good brother, happy mcfreaking birthday miya twins, like the best brother, overdramatic sakusa kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise
Summary: Part 1: Sakusa doesn't care about Atsumu's birthday. Doesn't care one bit. (He said caringly, as he deeply does, in fact, care about Atsumu's birthday).Part 2: Osamu might have a crush on Suna. Maybe. But if Osamu won't get out there and fight for what (or who) he wants, then he can bet his ass Atsumu will try to trick him into doing it anyway. (aka Atsumu tricks Osamu and Suna into going on their first date under the guise of a fake birthday party)
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 30
Kudos: 598
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics, SunaOsa





	1. Atsumu and Sakusa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostystarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostystarr/gifts).



> Yo I tricked my friend into coming up with half the plot for this fic so it only feels fair to gift it to her. I hope this attempt at soft sakusa delivers.
> 
> Sooo, originally the first chpt was around 3k but I have since added give or take 4k more bc apparently I had a lot more to say that I thought. Osamu and Suna will get a similar facelift in the near future ✌️

It’s all Bokuto’s fault. By proxy, that makes it Hinata’s fault too. Probably.

“I’m surprised you wanted to come along with us,” Bokuto shouts too close to Sakusa’s ear. 

“I didn’t.” 

“Then why are you here? Hinata and I can handle the party planning.” 

Therein lies the problem. A party planned by Bokuto and Hinata is not a party, it is a disaster waiting to happen. “You almost bought bottle rockets instead of birthday candles.”

“Atsumu wouldn’t care about something silly like that!” Bokuto says. 

Sakusa grimaces, brows drawn tightly together. “I think he’d care if there was a firecracker stuck in his cake in place of a candle. How would he play volleyball if it injured his hands?” 

“Who knew Omi-san cared so much about Atsumu-san?” Hinata sing-songs. “Omi and Atsumu sitting in a tree, F-L-I-R,” 

Sakusa cuts him off; he doesn’t take the bait. “I don’t care,” he says nudging the cart with his foot. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” The sooner they leave the party store, the better. 

“So anyway, I’m thinking black and white and maybe a little bit of gold.”

“Yeah! That’s a great idea! What do you think, Omi-san?”

Sakusa looks between the black paper plates and the gold paper plates. He frowns. What does the color of plates have to do with anything?

“Come on, Omi-kun, black plates with gold cups and white napkins or gold plates with white cups and black napkins?” 

“We aren’t planning a wedding,” he says. “The colors of the plates don’t matter.” 

Bokuto frowns. “How are we going to choose plates then?” he gestures to the wall of plates behind them Rainbow plates, Star Trek plates, Gudetama plates, baby farm animal plates, figure skating plates, and more, followed by paper plates in every color of the rainbow. Sakusa sighs. “The black plates then.” 

“Aww Omi-kun, you do care. Even about the plates!” 

“I don’t care."

"You know," says Bokuto, "you say that an awful lot for someone who seems to actually care, like, a lot." Bokuto shoves a startling number of paper plate packages into the cart while Hinata dumps in armfuls of coordinating napkins and paper cups. 

Sakusa wrinkles his nose. 

“Alright,” says Hinata. “What’s next on the list?” 

Bokuto thumbs through the list on his phone. “Streamers! Onward march!” They take off running leaving Sakusa behind to put back half the packages of paper cutlery. 

Since the beginning of the party planning, Hinata and Bokuto’s ideas are terrible and regrettably they never improve. For each idea that Sakusa shoots down as too time consuming, expensive, or dangerous, two more objectively worse ideas take its place. 

“What about a pool full of Jell-O?” Bokuto says on their walk back from the party store. “That seems like something Tsum-Tsum would like.” 

Sakusa shudders. The image alone is revolting. 

“Hmm,” says Hinata like he’s contemplating modern politics and not whether or not they should fill  _ a pool  _ with Jell-O. “It would probably take a really long time to make all that Jell-O.”

Sakusa is tempted to think that Hinata and Bokuto are purposefully trying to plan a terrible party for Atsumu but that would require a level of conniving that he just isn’t convinced they’re capable of. At every turn Sakusa finds himself putting out fire after fire. 

They decide it’s best to keep all the party supplies at Sakusa’s place. Of the three of them, Atsumu is least likely to show up unannounced at Sakusa’s apartment. Bokuto and Hinata are adamant that the party remains the utmost secret. Sakusa begrudgingly agrees to store the five overflowing shopping bags in the back of his coat closet. By the time he’s done playing Tetris trying to fit them all in the tight space, he’s breaking a sweat. Seriously, what do they need all these plates for anyway?

“Now that napkin shopping is out of the way, we can get down to the important stuff.” 

Sakusa has never planned any parties, birthdays, or otherwise. He doesn't know what the “important stuff” of party planning normally includes but he highly doubts that selecting napkins is really a priority. He’d ask but he stopped asking questions after one about the appropriate number of balloons led to a twelve-minute impassioned speech by Hinata that brought a tear to Bokuto’s eye for reasons that Sakusa couldn’t understand even if he wanted to. 

“Right,” Bokuto says. “The guest list.” 

Sakusa frowns. Three days? “Miya’s birthday is in three days and you haven’t decided who to invite yet? You can’t expect people to show up to a party with no warning. Even I know that.” 

Hinata shrugs. “We couldn’t send them until I got the custom printed invitations in the mail.” 

Sakusa first assumes he misheard because who in their right mind still sends physical invitations for a birthday party but then Hinata starts rifling through his bag and pulls out a surprisingly small stack of neatly folded envelopes and cards. 

“That’s even worse,” Sakusa says. “Do you want people to show up to the party or not?” 

Hinata’s pout makes Sakusa want to bash his own head against the table. 

“But I worked really hard on them!” Hinata says, lip quivering. 

“Omi-kun,” Bokuto chastises. “What would Meian say if he heard you talk to your brother in arms like that?” 

Sakusa gives up, his forehead crashes into the cool wood of the table. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” he says, mumbled and warped with most of his face still squished against the table. 

“Here,” Bokuto shoves something under his face.

SHHH.. It’s a surprise! You’re invited to Miya Atsuo’s 28th Birthday Extravaganza! 

There are three dancing basketballs underneath. It’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He’s too tired to hope for it to be a joke. No, life is playing a joke on him. He doesn’t deserve this. 

“You can’t send these,” Sakusa says. “And don’t bother asking why. I stopped counting at fifteen.” 

“Wha-” 

Sakusa reluctantly lifts his head off the table, leveling a glare at the two of them. “You didn’t spell his name right.” 

“No big deal!” Bokuto says, grabbing the invitation from Sakusa’s hand. “We can just scribble it out and rewrite it above,” he grabs the invitation from Sakusa’s hand. “There! Good as new.” 

“No,” Sakusa says. "Are you guys even trying to plan a nice party?"

“But whyyyy?” 

“They won’t get there in time. No one will show up to the party.” 

Bokuto taps on his chin. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. We could hand-deliver the invitations.” 

“That would be fun! Omi-san, what do you think?” 

“I would rather die than do anything on Miya’s behalf.”

Hinata smiles, undeterred. “No problem! Bokuto-san and I can totally handle it if you’re busy!” 

Sakusa doesn’t bother answering. Mentally, he’s already laying on his couch nursing the tension headache building behind his eyes. 

“Now that’s settled, back to the actual guest list!” 

Sakusa groans. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“That’s the spirit, Omi-kun.” Bokuto pulls a wrinkly folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. “Alright, I have Meian, Barnes, Inuaki, Suna, Coach Foster, Konoha, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, Onaga, Washio, Saruki, and Komi.” 

“I have Kuroo, Kenma, Kageyama, Hoshiumi, Komori, and Lev.” 

Dread seeps into his veins, this is the worst day of his life. Why did he volunteer to help with this? “This is worse than the invitations,” he mutters. “This isn’t a party for you, it’s supposed to be for Miya.” 

“We know that!” says Hinata. 

Sakusa raises a brow. “Do you?” 

“What’s wrong with our list?” says Bokuto. 

Sakusa slumps back onto the table. This conversation will be easier if he doesn’t have to look at them while they spew more nonsense. “For starters, not only do you only have half of the team on your list but more importantly, both of you forgot to put his twin brother on the list?” 

Hinata and Bokuto shrug. “Mistakes happen to all of us.” 

It's vital that Sakusa vacate the premises immediately before one of them ends up dead. This is complicated considering it's Sakusa’s kitchen table they’re currently sitting at. He could leave but then Bokuto and Hinata would be alone in his house. He shudders. 

“I knew you cared about Tsum-Tsum!” says Bokuto. 

“No. You’re just stupid for forgetting to put Osamu on the list.”

“I guess we could squeeze Osamu onto the list. I mean, technically we’re out of invites but maybe it’s okay if he and Suna share an invite. They probably won’t mind.” 

Sakusa snatches the invitation out of Bokuto’s hand then grabs the stack next to Hinata. 

“You’re fired,” he says. “Get out.” 

“Wha-” 

“Get out.” 

“If you want to be head party planner you should have just said something,” says Hinata far, far too cheerfully. “You don’t have to kick us out!” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine, fine,” says Bokuto. “If you really think you can handle planning Tsum-Tsum’s party on your own, be my guest.” 

Sakusa doesn’t bother seeing them out, instead electing to let his face fall gracelessly back onto the table. How did his life come to this? Just before the door slams, Sakusa hears one of them mutter, "that was a piece of cake" followed by "oh, yeah, played him like a fiddle," whatever that means. How the fuck did he end up as Miya Atsumu’s personal party planner?

“Sakusa?” Komori says after the first ring. 

“Don’t sound so confused,” Sakusa huffs.

“I’m not! It’s just, you don’t usually call me this early on a Thursday morning.”

“Something terrible happened.” 

“Wait, what? What happened? Should I-”

Sakusa groans. “No,” he cuts him off. “It’s not that kind of terrible.”

Komori lets out a deep breath. “Oh,” he pauses. “What _ is _ the terrible thing then?” 

In as few words as possible, Sakusa begrudgingly retells the horror story his life has devolved into over the past two days. 

“Okay,” Komori says slowly. “I don’t see why you’re doing this though.” 

Sakusa shrugs. Miya might be annoying and talk a big game but Sakusa knows that anxiety bubbles just under the facade. Most of the time, Miya’s overconfidence is 100% just that. But sometimes, it’s all a front, just a cover to hide behind. Sakusa doesn’t know what he’s trying to hide from, what could bother him enough to break through his normally confident exterior. It’s a subtle difference between his usual loud self-indulgent prattle or using over the top cockiness as a shield; but once noticed, it’s easy to pick up on the little cracks that divide the two.

And then there’s Bokuto and Hinata’s shit show of a party plan. Judging by the tragic state of the invitations, it would be lucky if the cake even spelled his name correctly or had the right age. The kind of thing that could give anyone a bit of self-doubt. It took all of a week into knowing Miya to learn that he is infinitely more insufferable when he’s anxious, it’s really in Sakusa’s best interest to take over planning this party before Bokuto and Hinata manage to ruin the guy’s birthday. 

“I shouldn’t have offered to help in the first place then I could have lived in blissful ignorance regarding their terrible party related decisions. They’re buddy-buddy with Miya, why would they think he’d like any of that? How did they get his name and birthday wrong? For fuck’s sake, they forgot to invite his brother; they remembered his brother’s boyfriend but not his brother?” 

“And?” 

“And, what? ”

“Sure it sounds like they weren’t all that good at it but It sounds like they probably weren’t doing a very great job but you never got to the part where you explain why I’m here.” Komori knows exactly why he’s here. The smirk on his face tells Sakusa all he needs to know and it’s more than clear that Komori very much knows why he is sitting across from a very panicked Sakusa at 9 am in the morning. If Sakusa wasn’t pressed for time he would drag this out, do anything to avoid admitting verbally that he not only needed help but he needed help planning a party for Miya Atsumu. 

“I need your help,” he admits. 

“With?”

“With planning it,” he grits out.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually take the bait.” 

“I have 36 hours to figure this out and absolutely no idea what I’m doing...please,” he mutters.

“Holy shit,” Komori whispers more to himself than anyone else. 

“What?” Sakusa says miserably.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly. “I’ve just never heard you talk so passionately about something that isn’t volleyball. You’re all grown up.” 

“Don’t be rude.” 

“Sorry, sorry. But,” he pauses. “It’s not a bad thing, you know, to care about someone and their happiness.” 

“Gross,” Sakusa mutters but it’s more for show than anything else. It’s not that he doesn’t care about other people generally, it’s just that he really would rather that no one else knows about it. “Are you going to help me or not? I have no idea the first thing about planning a party and what Bokuto and Hinata left me with is utter nonsense. They wanted a pool full of Jell-O. Jell-O, Komori.” 

“Does it have to be a party?” Komori asks like it’s the most obvious question in the world. 

Sakusa is halfway through snapping  _ yes  _ when he realizes that he doesn’t actually know. Does it have to be a party?

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” Komori says. 

Sakusa groans and fights the urge to bash his head against the table for the third time in as many days. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. All you have to do is find out what Miya likes and do that.” 

This is what he was afraid of. How the hell is he supposed to figure out what Miya Astumu likes? 

“Come on,” Komori says, “if you’re this concerned about it then you have to have some idea of what he might like.” 

“He likes volleyball.”

Komori is unimpressed. 

Miya is a pain in his ass, Sakusa knows that much. And somehow he’s managed to be a pain in his ass now when he isn’t even around. 

“Hello? Earth to Sakusa?” Komori says. “What- or who- in the world could you be thinking so hard about?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Daydreaming about Miya Atsumu?” 

“Bye,” he says. 

“Wha- wait what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go find what Miya fucking Atsumu likes.” 

It takes less than a sentence for Sakusa to regret his decision to come to Onigiri Miya. And less than two sentences until Sakusa is ready to walk about the restaurant without so much as a single hint. 

“So let me get this straight,” Osamu draws. “You-Sakusa Kiyoomi-want my help planning my favorite brother’s birthday party?" he grins and rubs his hands together. "Finally," he pauses, "retribution." 

“He’s your only brother,” Suna says, coming up behind Osamu. "And I don't know if retribution is the verb I'd go with."

“Semantics.”

At four sentences Sakusa is very confident that Osamu isn't going to be any more help than Komori. “Are you going to help me or not?” 

Osamu flaps a hand back and forth. “Maybe,” he says. “But first ya gotta tell me why ya even care in the first place. It's my job as Tsumu's brother to make sure yer intentions are solid." 

“I don’t care. I have no intentions." It's probably not the answer Osamu is looking for but Sakusa doesn't make a habit of lying if he can avoid it.

“Yer goin’ through an awful lot of trouble for someone ya don't care about. What do ya think, Suna?”

Suna wraps his arms around Osamu’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Hmm, I thought you guys were always at each other’s throats and now you're telling me you're throwing him a surprise birthday party? Sounds a little fishy.” 

This was a terrible idea. Why does Miya need a birthday party anyway, they’re grown adults for fucks sake. “I’d rather die than attend the party Bokuto and Hinata were planning. This is all for self-preservation.”

Suna and Osamu fix him with an unimpressed stare. “But why go to the party at all?” says Osamu. 

“Yeah, that's the easy fix to your original problem,” says Suna. “Just don’t go, then you don’t have to plan anything or go to a party.” 

“I never said I didn’t want to go,” he shrugs. Parties aren't usually Sakusa's scene but he supposes he could make an exception for Atsumu. He'd do the same for any one of the Black Jackals. Probably. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Osamu sniffles. “Of course, I just need a moment,” he wipes a nonexistent tear. “It’s so nice to know that my brother is so well cared for, ya know? Never thought the day would come for a cocky asshole like him.”

Sakusa frowns. “He’s cocky but he's not an asshole." 

Osamu's face lights up like he's just discovered something that will change their way of life forever. It makes Sakusa... uneasy. Like he's missing something obvious. “Oh?” Osamu leers. “What do ya care?” 

“I don’t care,” Sakusa says for what feels like the 100th time since shouldering the party planning responsibilities himself. 

“Are you sure about that?” says Suna, brows raised. In tandem, Osamu and Suna tilt their heads to the side and study him like he’s some kind of puzzle that needs solving.

“Ya thinking what I’m thinking,” Osamu says. 

“Oh, I’m definitely thinking what you're thinking.” 

"Well, isn't this convenient," Osamu mutters. "Who woulda thought." 

Sakusa doesn’t care what they’re thinking. If they aren't going to help him plan something for Atsumu then his time is better spent elsewhere like laying face down on his couch and cursing every choice he's made in the past 72 hours. “I don’t have time for this,” he says, turning to leave. The sooner he’s out of here, the better. He’ll figure out what Miya likes some other way. 

“Wait,” says Suna. Sakusa begrudgingly stops in front of the door and returns to the counter. 

"Suna!" Osamu hisses. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm not doing anything. You're going to help Sakusa. It'd make you a pretty good brother if you help him and it works out." 

"Why would I care about bein' a good brother?" 

"Well," says Suna. "Would I be wrapped around you like a snake right now- sure, it's more to make Sakusa squirm than anything else - but, regardless of the motive, would I be here like this if it weren't for Atsumu being a good brother years ago?" 

"I would have gotten around to asking ya out eventually! He had no business, no right-"

Suna cuts him off. "No right to try to give you a great birthday? To try to make you happy? You know as well as I do that you want Atsumu to be happy just like you are." 

Osamu inhales deeply and sighs. "I see what yer trying to do there, Sunarin, and it isn't gonna work." 

"Can I leave now?" Sakusa interjects. 

"No," Osamu says. "I think it's about time that justice is served. I never did get around to killing him that night and, Suna, you know better than anyone that he deserved it." 

Suna pats him on the shoulder. "Are you still mad about the Shrek thing?" 

What the fuck is the Shrek thi-? On second thought, Sakusa doesn't want to know. 

"What? No! I'm mad about the whole damn thing. Who did that punk think he was?" 

Suna reaches for Osamu's left hand, lacing their fingers together in a way that highlights the silver bands around their ring fingers. "I don't know, Osamu. I'm not sure that I'm all that mad about the outcome. Shrek incident included." 

Osamu's eyes drift to their linked hands, mesmerized by the light reflecting off the polished metal. They're in Onigiri Miya and it's nearly noon but Sakusa still feels like he's witnessing something far more intimate than he's comfortable with. Like he's an intruder on something special, something important. 

"Still mad?" Suna says, abruptly bringing Osamu back from his daydream. 

"Ugh. Fine. I guess I'm not mad anymore." He pauses to think, tapping one finger on his chin. "I'm still getting revenge though." 

"If by revenge you mean you're gonna help Sakusa with his plan then, by all means, get revenge to your heart's desire." 

Osamu wipes a non-existent tear from under his eye. "Wow, babe, ya just get me so well." 

"Don't be gross," Suna says, untangling himself from Osamu at last. "Now help Sakusa before he gives up on you." 

"Fine," Osamu says with a nod to Sakusa, "I'll help ya. Yer trying to throw a party?" 

Sakusa nods. He still isn't sure that Osamu is actually going to help him. 

"Well, if I were ya, I would scrap the whole party idea. He talks a big game but he isn't all that big of a party guy these days. But I suppose if ya cancel the party it'll just be the two of ya." Osamu grins. "Would that be a problem?" 

Sakusa is silent as he runs through the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, no party is the ideal situation for Sakusa, there is no actual party to attend and he doesn't have to bother with all this party planning bullshit. But, on the other hand, he'll be alone with Atsumu for several hours on end. This is problematic for several reasons, most of which he is unwilling to unpack with Atsumu's twin brother and brother-in-law. 

"There are worse things," Sakusa says instead. It's a true statement, but not one that says any more than he's willing to admit.

"That's not exactly the strongest vote of confidence but I'll take what I can get. Moving on, I gotta tell ya: if ya really want to know what my brother wants, you would probably be better off just asking him." 

“Wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?” he says without any feeling. "Aren't birthday things supposed to be surprising?"

“Oh trust me. Ya asking will be surprising enough.”

Sakusa’s eyebrows pinch together. Does Miya think he’s that big of a jerk that he’d want him to have a bad birthday?

“Don’t think too hard,” says Suna. “Your face will get stuck like that.” Sakusa frowns. This is useless. What a waste of time. 

“I’m leaving.” Sakusa has all the confirmation he needs, Miya Osamu is just as insufferable as his brother. 

The thing about being told one thing over and over again is that, even if it’s supposed to be false, eventually it has to be confronted for what it really is. For Sakusa, that comes after he’s read the same sentence of Volleyball Monthly 30 times before he finally relents and gives up on distracting himself. Like a man walking to the gallows, he plods to his bedroom and drops onto the bed with an overdramatic huff. He folds his hands neatly over his chest and reluctantly reviews the past few days.

Number one: Bokuto and Hinata didn’t actually ask him for his help with the party planning. He volunteered of his own free will - a fact that even he can admit is rather damning. 

Plus, he could have quit helping with the party plans the moment Bokuto and Hinata’s ideas started setting off a cacophony of internal sirens. Instead, he fired Bokuto and Hinata from the party planning committee, kicked them out of his house, and took on the brunt of the party planning himself. 

That’s strike two. 

Sakusa could have followed the vague outline of the party Bokuto and Hinata started minus all the ridiculous stuff. He could have taken the easy route, pick a new date (one that allows for adequate response time), send a few emails, and then he would be done with it. But, instead, he went on a near wild goose chase trying to plan a good party. 

Strike three.

On top of that, he wanted \- _wants_ \- the party to be good. He wants Atsumu to enjoy himself and have a good time. Even if that means asking Komori for advice (mildly embarrassing) and hunting down Miya Osamu for the same reason (bordering on humiliating). 

Strike four and five.

Just the fact that he’s laying here at all, contemplating the very idea that he, Sakusa Kiyoomi, cares is a strike in and of itself. 

He stops at six strikes. He can’t take anymore. Does he care... about Miya Astumu? More than that - does he care about his happiness? The answers, unfortunately, are unequivocally yes, yes, and yes. Sakusa blindly reaches for his side table, groping in the drawer until he finds the bottle of aspirin. It’s going to be a long day. 

Sakusa isn’t one to shy away from the truth even when the truth is ugly or difficult. He’s to-the-point and direct. Blunt. But this truth, that he not only cares about Atsumu but also likes him, is one that he would rather take to his grave than submit to the utter humiliation of admitting it out loud. However, Sakusa isn’t a quitter either and he still has a job to do. Now what? 

The phone rings once before Komori picks up. “Are you dying?” he says in lieu of a greeting. “Two phone calls in less than a week? That’s definitely a record.” 

Sakusa huffs. “That’s not funny.” 

“Alright, alright. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Sakusa doesn’t answer. “Everything okay? Did another terrible thing happen?” 

It hits him that he doesn’t actually know why he called Komori. To ask him for advice? To ask him for advice... about a crush? Or whatever the weird tightness he gets in his chest is supposed to be whenever Atsumu does something particularly stupid yet somehow endearing. Like the time he changed Bokuto’s hat horrendous pickup line to Akaashi on Bokuto’s behalf. Did it work? No. Was it stupid? Absolutely. Does Sakusa still smile when thinking about it?  _ Yes _ . 

Komori will hold this over him for the rest of their lives. The sheer embarrassment of admitting that he likes Miya Atsumu will undoubtedly haunt him, popping up as an intrusive thought at the most inconvenient of times like when he’s in the shower or stuck on the train. Nightmare fuel. 

“Sakusa?” Komori says. Sakusa nearly forgot they were still on the phone. “You’re starting to freak me out a little bit. Are you okay?” 

Sakusa snorts. “Tough to say.” 

“What?” 

“If you laugh, I’ll hang up,” Sakusa warns. 

“Okay?” 

“So don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” says Komori. Somehow Sakusa doubts that. 

Sakusa inhales, filling his chest, his lungs, his stomach, before exhaling just as loudly. 

“You’re really piling on the dramatics over there.” 

“You would too if you had a crush on Miya Atsumu,” he snaps. Shit. That’s one way to spit it out. 

“Hold on,” Komori says. “One day you’re asking for help planning a party and the next you’re calling me up to tell me you, Sakusa Kiyoomi, have a crush on Miya Atsumu?” 

“Yes,” he says between gritted teeth. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“Tell him,” Komori says like he’s an idiot for not realizing this sooner. “Ask him out.” 

“But-” 

“No. Tell him. Word on the street is that you asking Atsumu out might be the best birthday present you could give.”

Sakusa doesn’t have the time or energy to try to figure out what that means. “Whatever, bye,” Sakusa says. And then, “thanks.” 

“No problem! Are you going to do it?” 

“Ugh, yes.” 

“Omi-san!”

Sakusa instantly regrets answering the phone. “What?” 

“HOW IS THE PARTY PLANNING GOING?” Sakusa jerks the phone away from his face with one hand and rubs his eyes with the other. He still doesn’t have anything planned for Miya’s birthday and the party is supposed to be tonight. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Have you invited anybody yet? Bokuto-san and I haven’t heard anything from you.” 

“I said don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.” Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Oh, I see! It’s just going to be you and Atsumu-san! How sweet!”

“Wait-” 

“Gotta go! See you at practice!” 

Sakusa doesn’t care about birthdays. He doesn’t care about parties or paper plates or whether evites are better than paper invitations. Coordinating napkins are stupid and guest lists are bothersome. He’s not supposed to care about Miya’s birthday. This is all Hinata and Bokuto’s fault. It’s their fault for planning Atsumu a terrible party and tricking him into caring about whether or not Miya Atsumu enjoys his birthday. 

Caring about Atsumu’s birthday comes with several downsides. First, it means that Bokuto, Hinata, Komori, Suna, and Osamu were right. Not that he’ll ever admit it to any of them. Second, it means that he has less than 12 hours to come up with something actually good for Atsumu’s birthday and he’s no closer to figuring that out than he was yesterday or the day before that. 

He’s so fucked. 

If Sakusa is distracted during practice, everyone has the sense not to point it out. Everyone except for the source of the distraction himself, Miya Atsumu. 

“Omi-omi! Something on yer mind?” 

Sakusa slams his locker shut. “What’s it to you?” Abort, abort, abort. That is not what he meant to say. “Um,” he stammers but before he can continue making a fool of himself Atsumu throws his head back laughing. He claps a hand on his shoulder. 

“Alright then, keep your secrets. But ya can always talk to me if ya need to.” 

“Why would I need that?” 

Atsumu shrugs. “I don’t know, Omi-omi. You tell me.” Then he winks and pushes past Sakusa and out of the locker room. 

Sakusa is staring. From the weird looks Inuaki and Barnes are giving him, he must have crossed the line between appropriately staring off into space and staring for too long. Not that he cares. He needs to ask Atsumu about the birthday debacle but Bokuto and Hinata have been on him every spare moment of practice. 

“Pssst. Sakusa,” Barnes nods his head in Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto’s direction, “if you’re plotting to kill one of them right now, can you wait until after our game next weekend?” 

Sakusa huffs and pulls himself off the bench. It’s now or never. Hinata suddenly brightens when he spots Sakusa trudging over. Without looking away, Hinata grabs a hold of Atsumu’s shoulder blindly pushing and tugging until he, too, spots Sakusa. 

“See? I told you,” Bokuto says in a voice too loud to be a whisper. “He does care, we set the stage now, go seal the deal!” 

“Go get your man!” Hinata says too loudly. 

“Shoyo!” Atsumu hissed between gritted teeth. “He’ll hear you!”

“Yes,” Sakusa says. “I think we all heard you.”

“Omi!” Atsumu greets too cheerfully. He’s covering up something. 

“Well, that’s our cue,” says Bokuto, clapping Atsumu on the back harder than is strictly necessary. “Happy birthday, Tsum-Tsum! Looks like your present just arrived.” Then he’s gone, dragging Hinata behind him.

“Well, Omi-Omi, what can I do for ya?” Atsumu isn’t looking at him. Sakusa watches him organize and reorganize his gym bag three times before he decides enough is enough. “Omi-Omi?” Atsumu refolds his dirty gym shorts for the fourth time. 

“Miya,” Sakusa tries. 

Atsumu hums but doesn’t look up. 

“Atsumu.” 

“Omi.”

Sakusa huffs. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that you should look at someone when you’re talking to them?” 

Atsumu neatly places the towel in his bag, pausing briefly one it’s zipped. He inhales deeply as if mustering the will to look Sakusa in the face is the hardest challenge he’s faced yet. 

“It’s your birthday,” Sakusa says once Atsumu looks up, gym shorts forgotten.

“Yes,” he says plainly. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Everything about Atsumu is wrong. The tense set of his shoulders, the downward arc of his lips, pinched brows. It’s a facade. A defense. 

Atsumu shrugs. “Like what?” 

Sakusa growls. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Why are you looking at me like I’m your executioner?” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but have ya ever looked at yer face, Omi?” He shoulders his bag and rubs the back of his neck with that ugly fake smile back on his face. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame ya if ya want to kill me after Hinata and Bokuto said that stuff.” He grimaces. “Pretty embarrassing.” 

“Just sto-” Sakusa clenches and unclenches his fist. He’s really bad at this. It isn’t Atsumu’s fault that Sakusa has chronic resting bitch face or that Hinata and Bokuto are well-meaning dumbasses sometimes. “I’m not- I’m not mad.”

“Are ya sure about that?” 

Sakusa cringes internally. He’s bombing this. Atsumu is looking at him like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, scared shitless with his life flashing before his eyes. Sakusa wishes this were as easy as grabbing Atsumu by the shoulders with a good shake or two as if that would somehow transmit the words he’s so desperately trying to convey. 

Sakusa nods once and tries again “And I’m not going to kill you so... so stop looking like that.” He gestures incoherently. “Just wait for me. Outside.”

“Wha-”

“-To walk home together,” Sakusa cuts him off. This is even worse than practicing in the mirror and he hasn’t even said anything yet. “It’s the same direction,” he hesitates, “and it’s your birthday.”

“Alright.” 

Sakusa is the last one out of the locker room. He didn’t mean to take longer than normal, but the image of Atsumu waiting outside the building for him and the subsequent anxiety building in the pit of his stomach makes everything take twice as long. When he’s finally finished, he slings his bag over his back, too caught up in his panic to notice Atsumu waiting outside the door.

Sakusa trips and crashes into Atsumu. For a brief moment, he thinks they’re both going to slam into the floor but then strong hands grip onto his forearms, steadying them both.

“Woah,” says Atsumu. “Be careful or you’ll fall for me.” 

“Too late,” Sakusa says without shame because it’s true. It’s not a joke. Atsumu’s face goes bright red when he realizes this too. 

“Wai- Wh-? You-?”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa says, “I need to talk to you about something.” Atsumu is still holding onto Sakusa’s arms.

Atsumu swallows. “Okay,” he says with none of the usual confidence.

“What do you want for your birthday?” 

“Omi!” Atsumu yelps. “A minute ago you said you’re falling for me and this is your follow up?” 

Sakusa groans. “Answer the question, Miya.” 

“I kinda thought Bokuto and Hinata were planning something for me.” He shrugs. “But now they both have plans. Osamu just laughed when I asked him about our birthday, which was really fucking weird, but then he told me we’d have dinner tomorrow so I don’t know what that’s all about.” 

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Omi-omi.” He smiles, but there’s something off about it. 

“Why else would I ask?” Sakusa mutters. “Are you going to answer me or not?” 

“Oh, um.” 

Sakusa maneuvers his hands so now it’s he who has a grip on Atsumu. He tugs him a half step closer and quirks an eyebrow, silently saying,  _ well? _

“If it’s a party you want, sorry, but it’ll have to wait. I fired Bokuto and Hinata from the planning committee.” 

“No, I- I don’t want a party.” 

Sakusa hums. He tugs Atsumu another half step closer when he doesn’t continue. 

“Okay, if I tell ya, ya have to promise not to get mad,” Atsumu says, looking away. There it is, the anxiety that forces its way through Atsumu’s normally confident exterior. Sakusa wants to put it out. 

“Come on, Atsumu. Before your next birthday would be best.” Sakusa tugs him closer still. There’s barely more than 10cm between them now. Their arms are tangled up in a mess of sharp elbows and angles. Sakusa can feel the warmth radiating off of Atsumu’s chest. Atsumu still isn’t looking at him when he finally mumbles, “you.” 

“Hmm?” Sakusa smirks. Atsumu does look at him now.

“I know ya heard me,” he says. 

“What was that?” Sakusa says. Atsumu’s face grows even redder. It’s kind of cute. “You want what for your birthday?”

“YOU!” Atsumu shouts. “Was that LOUD enough for ya Om-” 

Sakusa cuts him off with a final tug. Atsumu gasps when the gap between them closes at last. They stand there like that for a moment, just the two of them alone under the harsh lights of the gym, breathing in and out in tandem. Sakusa shifts, wrapping one hand gently behind Atsumu's neck, the other coming to rest on his waist. He pulls Atsumu closer, softer this time, drawing him in, before finally, finally, kissing him. 

Atsumu hums, hands coming up to grip Sakusa's shirt. In turn, Sakusa's hand drifts from his neck to instead run his fingers through Atsumu's hair; it's softer than he expects. Atsumu gasps, lips parting. Sakusa uses this to his advantage, pressing in closer until he's completely lost: lost in Atsumu's warmth, in his hair, his lips, in the way his hands are fisting his tee-shirt, holding on as if Sakusa might disappear without warning. 

They pull back slightly breaking the kiss but they don't bother disentangling themselves any further. 

"Holy shit," Atsumu mutters looking slightly dazed. His hair is sticking up in eight different directions and his face is flushed. "Skin: cleared. Depression: cured. Crops: watered. Birthday: the best." 

Sakusa groans. "I swear, Atsumu, you really are an idiot." 

"But...??" 

Sakusa huffs. "Fine. You’re an endearing idiot.” 

Atsumu beams. “And...?” 

“Can I take you out for your birthday?”

Atsumu hums. “Tell me, Omi, what exactly does ‘take out’ mean?” 

“If you’re asking if I’m going to murder you, I thought we already covered that.” He pauses. “Can I take you out,  _ on a date, _ for your birthday?” 

Atsumu smiles, wide and genuine. "I thought you'd never ask, Omi-omi," he says before leaning back in. Sakusa rolls his eyes but meets him in the middle anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	2. Osamu and Suna

Osamu is fucking liar. A dirty liar. What does he think Atsumu is, stupid? Okay, probably. Regardless, Osamu is a dirty fucking liar and Atsumu might be dumb but not dumb enough not to see right through Osamu’s lies for what they really are- bullshit. He ain’t slick. Naturally, Atsumu only has one option in times like these. 

Atsumu waits behind their bedroom door, crouching so his heels are off the floor- ready to pounce. And he does the moment Osamu waltzes through the door like isn’t the biggest dirty liar Atsumu ever met. Osamu wastes no time fighting back, as soon as they’re both on the ground he has Atsumu in a headlock until Atsumu leverages his body weight and slips out of Osamu’s grasp. 

“Oi! Whaddya think yer doing?” he wildly throws a punch, missing Atsumu by a margin so wide that he almost forgets why he’s tackling Atsumu from its sheer hilarity. But then he remembers that his brother is a dirty fucking liar and doubles down, pinning Osamu down with the side of his face pressed into the floor. He sits on his back for good measure and to keep the bastard from running off or starting the fight all over again. 

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” 

“I dunno, the usual? Being the world’s most insufferable brother?” 

“Well, yeah,” Atsumu concedes. He’s got him there. “But I’m also calling you out on yer bullshit. Ya can’t hide from me, ya dingus, so I dunno why ya tried in the first place.” 

Osamu stills briefly before he’s flailing with a renewed ferocity than before. “I don’t know what yer talking about.”  
“Refusing to say it out loud won’t change the fact that I already figured it out for myself. Ya might as well give up this whole charade.” 

“Over my dead body!”

“Fine,” Atsumu says, pressing his knees harder into Osamu’s back. “I’ll wait. I could sit here all day, s’comfy.” 

Osamu groans. “Can’t ya ever let anything go?” 

“Not when it comes to you, my darlin’ dearest brother of mine.”

“Ew, yer disgusting. We aren’t brothers anymore.”

“Tell that to the receipt in mom’s filing cabinet!” 

Osamu slams his fist into the ground, the only movement he can make in his current state. “For the last time,” he growls. “A birth certificate isn’t a receipt and we each have our own!” 

“Whatever,” Atsumu says and then,” this isn’t about the receipts. This is about you being a dirty liar.” 

“I’m not lyin’ about anything! I haven’t lied to ya since yesterday when I told ya that yer hair looked less awful than usual. In case you were wondering, it actually looked terrible.” 

Atsumu almost, _almost,_ falls for the bait.

“STOP TRYIN’ TO DISTRACT ME! I know ya have a big ol’ crush on Sunarin and nothing ya say’ll stop me from knowing it!” 

Osamu gives up fighting, letting out a bone-deep sign before smashing his face into the floor. Atsumu almost feels back for tackling him now but not bad enough to do more than shift some of his weight off Osamu’s back and onto the floor without actually letting him up. “I didn’t lie,” he says after a minute. “I just didn’t tell ya.” 

“Lies of omission are still lies.” 

“Whatever.” 

“But we tell each other everything- even the embarrassing stuff and yet just gonna start holding out on me when the tea is piping hot?”

“I didn’t tell ya because it doesn’t matter. Why would Sunarin like me back? And if he doesn’t like me back then there’s nothin’ worthing telling.” 

Atsumu huffs and lets him up at last. Osamu isn’t just a dirty fucking liar, he’s also a stupid liar and Atsumu is going to prove it.

“Suna!” Atsumu yells, slipping an arm around his shoulders. 

“What?” Suna says without looking over. “You have 30 seconds before I shove you into oblivion.” 

“30! That’s 25 more than I was expecting.”

“Consider it a birthday present.”

“About that, Osamu and I decided to do a little something with our friends tonight, to celebrate turning 18 and all that.” 

“Is your actual birthday party tomorrow not good enough for you?” 

“No, no.” Atsumu says flapping a hand. “Just all the family will be there too and it's hard to get up to no good birthday shenanigans with yer friend when yer great aunt is breathing down yer neck about college and girlfriends and other useless stuff.” 

Suna hums and Atsumu takes it to mean that he sees his point. 

“So, will you come?” 

“I suppose I can stop by,” Suna says. “But not for your ugly face. I’ll be there to celebrate Osamu’s birthday.” 

Suna says it like he made a joke but it's good enough for Atsumu. He doesn't even bother with a _hey! we have the same face_ or anything.

Just when he’s about to give Suna the details, Suna hip checks him so hard he goes careening to the floor. “Times up,” he deadpans before walking away. 

“Wait!” 

Suna stops but doesn’t turn around. Typical.

“The ice rink, 7pm. Don’t be late!” 

“Explain to me again why I’d want to spend my birthday-”

“-our birthday,” Atsumu interjects. 

“-at an ice rink? Where it’s always freezing because, ya know, the floor is made of ice.”

“Samu,” Atsumu whines. It’s too late for him to change his plan now. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“No.” 

He plays his trump card. “We can go to that diner you like when we’re done.” Something shifts, however minutely, in Osamu’s expression and Atsumu grins because he knows he’s won. 

“Fine,” Osamu says eventually. “But if ya think I’m not gonna laugh my ass off when ya fall, ya got a big storm comin’.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

Atsumu’s plan, if he does say so himself, is going excellently. At the ice rink, he abandons Osamu at the ticket counter shouting something vaguely conveying that he’d take care of the skates. He requests one pair in Osamu and Atsumu’s size and one in Suna’s. 

If Osamu notices that one pair of skates is slightly larger than the other, he doesn’t say anything. Atsumu makes a big show of changing out his shoes, lacing them up and waddling around like his ankles are about to break before sitting down with an _oof._ “These don’t feel right,” he says. “I dunno, maybe I should try a different size.” Osamu hums but Atsumu is pretty sure he isn’t actually listening. He keeps fiddling with them until he spots Suna walking through the front door. He hastily unties the skates, neatly tucking the laces back inside before throwing on his own shoes before jumping off the bench. “I’m gonna go try another size,” he says over his shoulder. 

He darts over to Suna, shoving the skates unceremoniously into his hands without so much as greeting. “Osamu’s over there,” he jerks his head toward the bench. “I’ve gotta go get a new pair but I think these should fit you.” Atsumu slaps him on the back and darts off without giving Suna a chance to respond. Oh yes, his plan is going great. 

🎉 🎉 🎉

Osamu isn’t stupid no matter what Atsumu thinks. It takes all of 30 seconds into Atsumu’s ice skating speech for Osamu to realize he’s working some kind of angle. He doesn’t know _what kind_ of angle but there’s definitely something fishy going on. But he goes along with the idea anyway, if he’s lucky he’ll be able to work out what Atsumu is pulling with enough time to manipulate his plan and get it to blow up in Atsumu’s face instead. 

It isn’t until Suna is striding toward him, Atsumu’s discarded skates in hand that Osamu realizes he miscalculated. Atsumu did not mention that anyone else would be joining them; he was under the impression that this was supposed to be some weird sibling birthday celebration. 

Suna nods hello as he sits to slip out of his shoes and into the skates. Suna is close. Really close. Osamu swallows and silently curses Atsumu. 

Atsumu hasn’t returned with new skates by the time the DJ announces that the public skating session has begun and skaters may enter the ice. At this point, Osamu doesn’t expect him to. 

“Should we go?” Suna says with a small smile. Under any other circumstance, Osamu wouldn’t think twice. He’d probably shove Suna as he passed, shouting “race ya!” and rushing off until he either fell flat on his face or Suna caught up and shoved him back twice as hard. Right now, he just nods. He feels sick. Fuck all this love, care, and crush shit. 

Unsurprisingly, Osamu falls face-first the moment his blade comes into contact with ice. It takes him three tries to stand back up by which point Suna is pointedly not looking at him; obviously embarrassed to be associated with such an uncoordinated disaster. If only all these people gliding by effortlessly could see him on a volleyball court, or in a kitchen for that matter. Then they’d see how smooth he could be. 

On his fourth try, Suna holds out a hand and to Osamu’s utter humiliation, he takes it and is immediately upright again. 

“This is ridiculous,” Osamu mutters. “But thanks.” 

“Have you ever been skating before,” Suna says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“No? Have ya?” 

“Yes?” 

Osamu groans. It’s going to be a long night. 

It turns out there is more Osamu doesn’t know about ice skating beyond the basic mechanics of it; public skates held in the evenings are often nothing more than awkward school dances on ice. The lights dim, there is a form for song requests next to the sound booth, and every fifteen minutes they’re interrupted with new instructions from the DJ. 

“Alright you lovebirds out there, it’s time for everyone’s favorite part of the evening-” the lights dim until the ice is lit only by a colorful kaleidoscope of dancing spotlights. “-the couples skate! Grab yer favorite guy or gal and show ‘em a good time!” 

It’s at this exact moment that he realizes he’s been played. If it weren’t for Osamu’s utter incompetence in ice skates he would have been off the ice before the DJ even finished his sentence but instead he’s stuck under Suna’s calculating gaze. He’s staring at him like he’s just figured something important out and is impatiently waiting for everyone else to catch up. 

Osamu rubs the back of his neck. “Should we, uh,” he gestures toward the closet door. “Ya know?” Suna quirks a brow, still peering at him with the same appraising gaze and Osamu feels like he just answered some unspoken question incorrectly. “Ya know because it's supposed to be like a couple’s thing or something?” 

It’s not supposed to be hot in an ice rink but Osamu still finds himself tugging at the collar of his shirt. Suna is frustratingly quiet, eyeing him with a contemplative stare that sets Osamu’s on fire. He’s sweating, silently begging Suna to say or do anything so that they can snap out of whatever this moment is supposed to be. 

Suna does none of those things. Without speaking, he holds out a single hand, palm up, and slowly tilts his head to the side, smirking. It’s a challenge. Osamu isn’t one to back down from a challenge. Suna’s hand is warmer than he expects; its warmth creeps up Osamu’s arm enveloping his entire body until even his heart is on fire. 

He follows Suna’s lead through a slow, very slow, lap around the furthest edge of the rink so Osamu can grab a hold of the boards if he starts to take another tumble. 

“Alright you lovebirds, we have a couple of requests tonight. Up first we have XYX requested for, and I quote, the younger twin and his smoking hot date, the middle blocker. That sure is one way to put it, folks. Well, enjoy!” 

_When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man that’s waking next to you. And when I go out, yeah I’m gonna be the man that goes along with you._

“Suna,” he says without looking over. “When they arrest me for Atsumu’s murder, do ya promise to delete my browser history?” 

_And I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more just to be the man-_

“Duh,” Suna says. “But, I think it’s, he hesitates. 

_-just to be the man who walks a thousand miles-_

Osamu looks over at him for the first time since the DJ made the announcement. Is Suna... nervous? 

- _to fall down at your door._

Osamu, being the little shit he knows he is, isn’t willing to let Suna’s half-finished sentence die in the silence between them. “Ya think...?” 

_When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who's lonely without you. And when I’m dreaming-_

Suna looks away when he says, “I think it’s, I don't know, kind of sweet? The song,” he gestures to their clasped hands. “All of it.” His cheeks are bright red but Osamu isn’t sure if it’s from the cold air or something else. 

_-well I know I’m gonna dream, I’m gonna dream about the time I’m with you._

Osamu’s brows pinch together. “Atsumu is a lot of things but sweet is not one that I’d use,” he says. 

“Osamu,” says Suna, “has anyone ever told you that sometimes you're thick as bricks?”

_But I would walk 500 miles-_

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. “Atsumu tells me at least twice a day.” 

“Oh my god, come on,” Suna says, tugging them toward the door. “I can’t believe this,” he mutters. 

- _And I would walk 500 more._

They’re barely out the door before Suna manhandles him away from the crowd and into a spotlight neglected corner. He lets go of Osamu’s hand for the first time since the couple’s skate started. Instead, he grabs a fistful of Osamu’s shirt and yanks until they’re toe to toe, chest to chest, face to face. He blinks and then Suna’s lips are on his and he’s kissing him. He, Suna Rintarou, is kissing him, Miya Osamu. 

_Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door._

“Well,” Suna says. “Do you get it now?” 

“Oh,” Osamu says and even to his ears, he sounds like an idiot. “I think I do.” He grins. “But maybe ya should show me one more time to be sure.” 

“You’re the worst,” Suna says but he’s already leaning in. 

“Alright, love birds, one more song before we return to our regularly scheduled programming. This one goes out to ‘I swear to heck ya guys have better get yer shit together or don’t bother coming home until ya do- with love, the better-looking twin.’ Enjoy, folks!”

_Well I thought love was only true in fairy tales-_

“Oh my god,” Osamu groans. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“I’ll drive the getaway car."

Osamu grins, “look at us, a dynamic duo if I ever saw one,” he grabs Suna’s hand. “Alright, step 1: I’m gonna kiss ya some more. Step 2: Kill Tsumu.” 

Suna shrugs. “Not my first thought for a first date but it’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)

**Author's Note:**

> Or on twitter @pancakesurprisd


End file.
